Turkey Trot

I've received quite a few condolences regarding my Thanksgiving away from home, and believe me, as Turkey Day is notorious for my favorite foods by far, I would have welcomed the pity if it had at all been justified. But I cannot let you believe a mistruth, it was amazing! My friend Savannah and I even reenacted a Turkey Trot by meeting at 5:45 am to run for an hour, (because you just can't break a tradition of masochism on such a special day.)

Over 20 people (mostly ex-pats) spent a long relaxing day at my friends' the Wolheter's with a (very expensive imported) turkey and all the fixin's.

How could I not feel cared for at a dinner replete with pumpkin name cards, feather napkin holders and a turkey bread basket all lovingly created by the Wolheter clan.

The dessert table overflowed with beauties such as pecan pie, just like mom makes, pumpkin imported probably just for the likes of us, and caramel apple pie somewhat similar to my Homemade Ice Cream and Pie Kitchen favorite.

And to spoil us completely rotten, we tried a new Thanksgiving experiment, homemade pumpkin pie ice cream. Success!!

So, thank you to everyone who ate double portions for me at home, and made my favorite treats in my honor, but I can't let you feel sorry for me. I have SO much to be thankful for here and a mouthwatering Thanksgiving feast, with friends like new family, is one of those blessings.

"From them will come songs of thanksgiving and the sound of rejoicing."

-Jeremiah 30:19

Salt of the Earth

Bolivia is one of the world's most biodiverse countries, and this week fifteen of us from my language school took a five-day field trip to investigate that fact. Via bus train and Landcruiser we visited the cities of Oruro and Uyuni and the vast expanse of uninhabited nature thereabouts.

I tried to pet such rare animals as flamingos, emus, and vacuñas. We swam

in natural hot springs and tiptoed up to lakes of borax, sulfur, and algae, variously colored green, red, and blue. We cruised across desserts for hours without any sign of life, we (on second thought probably just I) hugged cactuses on an deserted island, we climbed huge piles of salt in the world's largest salt flats, and we gazed at stars nearly too numerous to believe that God has really named them all like He claims in Isaiah.

Unfortunately, English became the default language of the trip, but I tried to use as much Spanish as I could, with such essential phrases as "Donde esta el baño?" Which was answered with a point toward a rock, or directions to a port-a-pot costing almost 5 Bolivianos. And similarly, in a tiny, extremely remote city, that hasn't had water in over a month and only has electricity by generators, yet we still found a way to get fairly lost on our run, I got to practice the everyday question, "Donde esta el hotel de sal?"

Even surpassing my favorite natural wonder, the volcano/geyser field full of bubbling lava, the best part of the trip for me was spending time with my compañeros. Whether smushed in the back of a vehicle for hours on end, scaling ginormous rocks in flip-flops, staging hilarious photo-ops, or sharing a beautiful Communion service on a table and chairs made completely of salt, the people were God's greatest creation on this adventure into some of His best. God has so blessed me with relationships here, I could never have asked for such good company.

Gracias

This week, I started praying in Spanish, both unwittingly and intentionally.

Yesterday, a few of us climbed to nearly 17,000 feet and peaked the tallest mountain in Cochabamba. At the top we were met with a beautiful snowfall and the sounds and shocks of an unbelievably surreal electrical storm. As we shot current out the tips of our fingers like wands from Ollivander's, the prayer that came automatically was, "Tu eres increíble!"

But during the ride to and from the base of the mountain when we rounded these corners, and our driver veered nearer and nearer the edges of cliffs, my prayers went straight back to my mother tongue, there was no time to risk using the wrong words.

As Thanksgiving approaches here, less formally than in the States of course, but the sentiment is here nonetheless, I wanted to share my appreciation for you and for all He does for me.

"Gracias Señor por tu Hijo, Jesús. Gracias por tu presencia siempre, por tus bendeciones abundantes, y por mi familia que me cuida. Gracias Padre porque me rodeas de gente que me ama y de gente a quien amar. Te pido que me muestres como puedo amarlos mejor. Gracias por la majestad de tus montañas y la maravilla de tu creacion. Tu eres demasiado bueno conmigo. Gracias por tu gracia. En el nombre de Jesús, amen."

In English, to save some of you a step with Google Translator, "Thank you Lord, for your Son, Jesus. Thank you for your presence always, for your abundant blessings, and for my family that takes care of me. Thank you Father for surrounding me with people that love me and people to love. I ask that you show me how I can love them better. Thank you for the majesty of the mountains and the wonder of your creation. You are too good to me. Thank you for your grace. In the name of Jesus, amen."

Less and Less Likely to be Deported

Continuing on the theme; confused, I took my first overnight bus to Santa Cruz this weekend to tie up some loose ends. I don't think that bus terminal was the least bit concerned about me finding my bus. But with a little help from God I'm sure, I made the ten hour bus trip each way safely.

Last week, I became less of an illegal resident here when I finally received my one-year Visa. In the ongoing process of becoming more and more legal, I needed to head back to Santa Cruz to have my picture and thumbprints

taken for my carnet, or national identification card. Because flying is so much more expensive and I am so cheap, I chose the "flota", or bus, option. Fortunately, the ridiculously hot weather they've been having that I was

expecting, did not greet me but was replaced by the cooler mugginess the rains brought. However, the mosquitoes did not fail to welcome me very warmly.

While there, I stayed with my great friends, the Janeckes, ran with my kindred spirit, Heather, and made some cool new backpacking friends as well. I shopped for a vehicle hardy enough for the roadless countryside I'll work in, large enough for teams and equipment, and reasonable enough to squeeze into my budget. I also, looked at some options for places to live once I master* Spanish and move back to Santa Cruz for work. Both of these decisions (driving and housing) were largely centered around

you and being able to comfortably accommodate you on your visits. Therefore, I will be sure to have a hammock no matter where I live, and my car will definitely be able to take you to views like this one that greeted me shortly after sunrise from my bus this morning...

*My use of the word "master" here is, of course, tongue in cheek.